


I have been homesick for you since we met

by swishywillow



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 4 + 1, Babies, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Uncle!Bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 18:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5881312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishywillow/pseuds/swishywillow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke is just exhausted enough to think it’s a good idea to curl up in Bellamy’s bed, Aurora cradled into the crook of her arms, head resting in the palm of her hand. She’s seen Bellamy hold her like that enough to know she likes it, and sure enough she finally goes quiet, eyes blinking faster and faster as she tries to fight off sleep. Clarke traces her dark eyebrows delicately, rubs her belly in slow circles. “Go to sleep,” she croons. “Bellamy will be here when you wake up.”</p><p>(Four times Clarke sees Bellamy with a baby, and one time he sees her.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I have been homesick for you since we met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HawthorneWhisperer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawthorneWhisperer/gifts).



> If I were still in middle school, I definitely would have added "I suck at summaries" to that. My bad. For my multi-fandom, life advice giving bfffffffff hawthornewhisperer. Pretty sure I owe you like 10 fics, it's time for you to give up on those tbh. Instead, please settle for this poorly developed fluff trash can. Love you!

_one_

 

The first time she sees him hold a baby is in Octavia and Lincoln's cabin, just a few minutes after Octavia threatens to murder every single person in the room. There is screaming and swearing and she will later swear to god that Lincoln cried like, _a lot_ , and then there is this tiny little creature with angry, flailing limbs, possibly the only thing more terrifying than her mother. Her name is Aurora Blake, and she's not the first baby born to the Sky People but she feels like the most important so far to Clarke, the first of her kind to have a little bit of ground and sky in her bones.

 

Before they can even get her cleaned off they're passing her around, first to Octavia, then to Lincoln, and finally to Bellamy. Clarke feels like she's intruding even after all this time, after the forgiveness and Octavia kicking her ass pretty thoroughly, but Bellamy looks up and smiles at her crookedly, leaving her insides warm, so she stays.

 

"She looks just like O did," he tells her, voice soft and awed. Octavia is slumped back against the bed, Lincoln cupping her shoulders and looking as if he has seen the sun for the first time, all dazed and blinded and deliriously happy. Bellamy shifts closer to her, shoulders brushing. He holds Aurora like she's a galaxy, infinite, and she could swallow him whole in a second.

 

"She's beautiful," Clarke whispers, but it's hard to see past the look on his face.

 

He glances up at her, expression inscrutable. “Do you—?” He looks at the baby in his arms, holds her out to him. Aurora’s eyes are closed, her cheeks ruddy and pink, a feathering of dark, soft hair plastered to her scalp.

 

Clarke shakes her head, holding out a finger instead. She traces the lines of her little arms and feet carefully, like she’s a piece of glass a hundred years old. When she looks back up at Bellamy his eyes are dark and serious, like he’s trying very hard to commit this moment to memory. She swallows hard before breaking into a smile, letting the heavy moment fade away.

 

“You’re going to have your hands full with this one,” she teases. He smiles at that, but his eyes stay the same.

 

“Maybe,” he agrees, passing the baby back to Lincoln. When his hands are empty he grabs one of her own, watching the small family wistfully. “But I love her, so it’s worth it.” He squeezes her hand gently, like maybe he’s talking about something else too. Clarke doesn’t say anything, just watches Octavia cradle her baby girl carefully to her breast, Lincoln running his fingers reverently through her hair.

 

Maybe it is worth it, she thinks.

 

. . .

 

_two_

 

Bellamy makes up for being manically overbearing during Octavia's pregnancy by being unnaturally good at _everything_ when the baby is born, all flawlessly swaddled blankets and perfectly stitched diapers made from old shirts and spare bits of cloth tossed over his shoulder everywhere he goes.

 

He’s been uncharacteristically cheerful since she was born, stealing her from Octavia whenever she will let him. It makes her a little sad sometimes to see him like this, knowing he’s only so good at it because of the heavy burden he had to carry as a kid, but he’s happy enough about it that it’s hard to see anything past the wide smile that has been on his face more than ever before.

 

He sidles up to her one warm spring afternoon, Aurora cradled in one arm like she belongs there. Clarke feels an itch under her skin.

 

“You smell like vomit,” she says brusquely. Bellamy blinks at her in surprise before grinning, moving even closer and wrapping an arm around her waist, tugging her in. His hand is warm through her shirt and she knows he feels her shiver.

 

“Charmer,” he teases. His fingers curl into her side as if they belong there, like it’s something they do all the time. Which, isn’t an exaggeration, but usually not like this, in the middle of camp in bright day light. It’s usually in someone’s tent well past moonrise, accidental and sleepy and leaning against each other after discussing strategy.

 

Aurora jiggles a little with his movement and she turns bright green eyes to Clarke, frowning at her in a way that is so reminiscent of Octavia that she kind of worries hating her is genetic. “You shouldn’t do that while you’re holding her,” she says reproachfully, disentangling herself from his grasp.

 

Bellamy scoffs, rolling his eyes as if she’s actually offended him. “I think I’ve got a handle on this,” he says, turning his attention to the baby in his arms. His face melts into a sweet smile as he looks down at her, Aurora’s head in the palm of his hand, her body resting on his forearm. He pokes her nose with his index finger, making a little booping noise that Clarke honestly can’t handle.

 

He glances back up at her and she feels herself flush when he smirks at her, as if he knows everything she’s thinking. _God_ , she hopes he doesn’t know everything she’s thinking.

 

“Ugh, can you two not do that around my baby?”

 

Clarke jumps, feels her face flush even hotter when she realizes she doesn’t know how long they’ve been standing there, looking at each other goofily. Octavia rolls her eyes, just as unimpressed with Clarke as her baby. She scoops Aurora out of Bellamy’s arms, kicking him in the shins once she’s safely tucked under her chin.

 

“Um.” Her cheeks are still hot and she ducks her head, looking away from him quickly. “I have to—“ She points with her thumb across the camp, already backing away. Bellamy’s answering smile is halfhearted, a little disappointed, and she feels a pang of guilt. She just — it’s impossible to be around him right now and not do something stupid and she’s not ready for something stupid yet. She’ll make it up to him.

 

. . .

 

_three_

 

"You know she has parents, right?" she asks him dryly one night when she catches him rocking the baby to sleep well after the moon has risen by the fire that steadily burns every night. It's a cool spring evening, the kind that she's finally able to understand means summer is coming. Bellamy's eyes look darker in the moonlight, Aurora drooling on his shoulder as her whimpers finally fade away in sleep, and her gut twists with a want that’s all too familiar at this point. Her fingers curl into fists to keep from reaching out to him.

 

He just smiles at her, all soft and warm, his eyes barely leaving the baby's sleeping form. "My niece, my responsibility," he says absently.

 

She drops down beside him, shoulders brushing his as she leans in to get a look at the baby. Her face is scrunched up in sleep, as if she is ready to start wailing again at the slightest disturbance. Clarke doesn't realize how close they are until Bellamy turns to look at her, his nose practically brushing her cheek.

 

"She's been pretty fussy lately," he admits in a whisper, swaying slightly when Aurora makes a sound. "O and Lincoln haven't gotten much sleep lately and—" He hesitates, resting his cheek on her downy hair, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "I remember how hard it was when O was this age, so I wanted to help."

 

He looks sleepy himself and Clarke feels such a sharp rush of affection that she can barely even help it when she reaches out and runs her fingers through his dark, messy curls. He leans into her touch, humming in pleasure. They stay like that for a long time, pressed close together, her fingers in her hair, his body warm and familiar against hers.

 

“They’re pretty lucky to have you, you know,” she says after a quiet moment. “You’re — it’s just good, that they have someone who cares so much.” He looks over at her in surprise, eyes unreadable in the dark. She hopes he can’t see the way her cheeks turn red.

 

He tilts his head in thought, smiling after a moment. “You know you have me too, right?” he asks softly. She swallows hard, ducking her head to rest on his shoulder so she doesn’t have to look at him anymore. He melts against her, resting his cheek against her hair, and the weight of him is heavy and perfect, grounding her solidly to the moment.

 

“Yeah, I know,” she promises. His hand catches hers, and their fingers tangle together.

 

_. . ._

_four_

 

She’s sitting cross legged on the hard packed dirt floor of Bellamy’s little cabin, pouring over a map. Bellamy’s close to her, tickling Aurora’s feet. She has two pearly little teeth now, and they flash in the low light when she laughs, fat cheeks creasing with dimples. It’s quiet outside, the camp gone soft with dusk, and Lincoln and Octavia are out of the camp on a trip to a nearby village. It’s irritatingly easy to think of this as _right —_ close to Bellamy, the gentle warmth from the spring lingering inside the room, the feeling that someone wants her to stay.

 

Aurora’s giggles are distracting, and he must catch the wistful look on Clarke’s face because he scooches closer, and the baby drags herself with him. Bellamy runs the pads of his fingers across Aurora’s feet, nose wrinkling with laughter as she shrieks in delight. Clarke feels her stomach twist.

 

“You alright?” he asks gently. He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, palm cupping her cheek. She feels herself lean into his touch, and her eyes dart down to his smile, lips curled up and inviting. His thumb brushes her skin and when she looks up at him his eyes are dark.

 

“I’m good,” she says, embarrassed by the huskiness of her voice.

 

The door swings open and they shift suddenly apart; Miller has the grace to look apologetic. “You busy?” he asks dryly.

 

Bellamy scowls, pulling his hand away and leaving Clarke’s skin cold.

 

“Someone better be bleeding,” he mutters, then winces because it’s entirely possible. His hands reach down for Aurora and he brushes a soft kiss against her hair before settling her in Clarke’s lap. To her surprise he kisses her too, lips dry and warm against her jaw. “Just — stay here,” he says softly. As if she’s going to leave Aurora to roll around on the floor by herself.

 

He’s up and closing the door behind him before she can say anything else, and Aurora looks up at her with wide green eyes, promptly bursting into tears. Clarke tucks her under her chin, closer to her than she’s ever really been before.

 

“He’ll be back,” she promises softly, rubbing gentle circles on her back.

 

. . .

 

_\+ one_

 

A new guard _must_ have been bleeding because he’s gone for ages, long enough for Aurora to scream herself hysterical. Clarke tries feeding her, bouncing her up and down on her knees, dancing her fingertips across her squirmy toes. Nothing helps until she starts humming, a nonsense tune that distracts Aurora enough for her to finally catch her breath and let her eyes grow heavy with sleep.

 

Clarke is just exhausted enough to think it’s a good idea to curl up in Bellamy’s bed, Aurora cradled into the crook of her arms, head resting in the palm of her hand. She’s seen Bellamy hold her like that enough to know she likes it, and sure enough she finally goes quiet, eyes blinking faster and faster as she tries to fight off sleep. Clarke traces her dark eyebrows delicately, rubs her belly in slow circles. “Go to sleep,” she croons. “Bellamy will be here when you wake up.”

 

She falls asleep like that, half sitting up against Bellamy’s pillows, Aurora cuddled against her. When she blinks awake it is completely dark outside, and Bellamy is silhouetted against the door. The fire in his rough little hearth has turned to embers, and it’s impossible to see his face.

 

“Bellamy,” she murmurs sleepily, and she thinks she reaches an arm out for him. It doesn’t feel real, honestly — him carefully pulling the baby from her arms and settling her into the little crib Lincoln helped him fashion to keep in his cabin. She hears him pull off his boots, feels him settle gentle beside her, and she can’t help but curl against him. He shivers against her and she shifts even closer, pressing her face into the curve of his shoulder. His skin is cool from the night.

 

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says against his skin. He makes a soft choking sound, whispers something she can’t quite make out—

 

It’s still dark when she opens her eyes again, though it feels like she’s been sleeping for hours, and she can hear Aurora fussing across the room. Bellamy rolls away from her, groaning quietly before he pads across the room. Her eyes adjust and she can see him in the darkness, rocking his niece gently back to sleep, whispering sweetly to her words that she can’t hear. She’s too tired to pretend she doesn’t love him, but when he slides back into bed beside her a few minutes later she tries.

 

“Sorry I fell asleep in your bed,” she says softly.

 

 “Don’t be.” Even in the dark she can see the raw look on his face, and she shudders when he reaches out for her, his warm hand spanning across her waist, touching her skin where her shirt has ridden up in sleep. “This is—” He laughs a little, slipping closer to her. “Feel free to do this always.”

 

She thinks maybe he’s trying to sound teasing but he’s _Bellamy_ , too earnest for his own good. She hums under her breath, bridging the last inch of space between them until they are pressed together from shoulders to toes. “Okay,” she agrees.

 

"I'm going to kiss you," he warns her, so seriously, and if she wasn’t awake before she is now. She has been pointedly trying for a long time now not to imagine what it would be like to kiss Bellamy Blake, without much success; she always kind of thought when it happened, _if_ it happened, it would be in the middle of an argument, hard and angry and accidental. She definitely never considered it would be like this, sleepy and slow and quiet, his lips brushing over hers deliberately in the dark. He moves frustratingly slow and when she huffs impatiently against his skin she can feel his smile.

 

“I thought you were going to kiss me,” she whispers irritably, and she can feel his smile smug against her lips.

 

He kisses her again, wetter, deeper, until she moans a little in the back of her throat. “I’m just getting started,” he promises, and then he’s everywhere, all around her, hands on her hips and hot kisses across her throat, soft dark hair curling under her fingertips. They don’t pull away from each other until Aurora cries out again, and she’s gratified to feel him breathing heavily against her skin.

 

“Octavia and Lincoln will be back tomorrow night,” he pants, voice dark with want. She turns around in his arms, until her back is flush against his chest, shivers when his lips brush the curve of her neck.

 

“I can wait.” He makes a sound in the back of his throat, something like disbelief and happiness and want, and tugs her against him hard. It doesn’t feel like waiting, though, when she has him like this, warm and perfect against her.

 

She falls asleep easily. When she wakes up, he’s still there.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "A Father's First Spring" by the Avett Brothers. This is maybe the worst thing ever? Honestly I'm a wreck and this has been sitting in my graveyard folder unfinished for months, yikes. I hope this wasn't too completely unbelievable. I just want to squint my eyes and pretend they'll be happy some day. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr if you'd like: swishywillow.tumblr.com


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